


Libitum

by Hyperpnea



Series: Libitum [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Anal Sex, Filth, Library Sex, M/M, Morning Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, See how filthy this shit is, Wall Sex, enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, graphic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 08:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12295077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperpnea/pseuds/Hyperpnea
Summary: Simon feels like he’s on fire, embers floating away from his skin, the pit of his stomach the hearth. He has his legs wrapped around Baz’s waist, and Baz’s hands are squeezing Simon’s bare ass tightly, his cock hard and hot inside Simon’s puckering hole.





	Libitum

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta-ed bc it's 4 in the morning and this was born at about 2 a.m., so yes I made this technically in an hour and half and I have not an idea where this filth came from but I needed it out of my system.

 Simon feels like he’s on fire, embers floating away from his skin, the pit of his stomach the hearth. He has his legs wrapped around Baz’s waist, and Baz’s hands are squeezing Simon’s bare ass tightly, his cock hard and hot inside Simon’s puckering hole.  
  
 Baz is fully clothed, his fly open, and Simon scrambles for leverage by embedding his nails on the expanse of Baz’s covered back, while Baz continues to roughly rut at him. Simon has his back against the wall, his head resting on Baz’s shoulder, lolling and muffling his moans and grunts. Baz’s lips lightly skates on Simon’s cheek before resting on his ear, nibbling Simon’s lobe with his perfect white teeth.  
  
 “Baz, Baz, I-I’m—“Simon whispers like his air supply is cut short, his prick stuck between his abdomen and Baz’s, precum spilling obscenely. Baz hums and thrusts hard, hitting Simon’s prostate, before proceeding to fuck Simon’s battered hole faster and harsher, his tongue sweeping Simon’s ear and Simon feels wetter, feels like an object for Baz’s pleasure, and he thinks that he can get off without Baz’s hand jacking his cock off just with that thought.  
  
 “Are you coming, darling?” Baz asks, huffing hot and wet air against Simon’s cheek and Simon shivers from the contact and from Baz’s endearment.  
  
 Baz is cool most of the time, sharp and with insults that could get through the first layer of your skin, but it’s different when they’re fucking. Baz is dynamic when they’re fucking. He could be soft and gentle, handling Simon like a fragile glass, and he could be like right now, using Simon like he’s just a hole to fuck, but if Simon could pinpoint something constant about Baz when they’re doing this, it would be Baz’s endearments and honey-coated dirty talks.  
  
 Baz would only call Simon, “Snow”, and nothing else when they’re in class, or in the field, even in his venom laced insults. But he could be “Darling”, or “Simon”, or “Honey”, when they’re in the Mummer’s house, inside the safety of their room, and Simon thinks, that all he ever wanted was to be called like that when there are other people around, so people would know that he belongs to Baz full-stop. Penny knows about it because she had a bad timing once and entered their room while they were in the middle of doing their business on the desk. After that, she put up a spell so that she’d know when they’re fucking and when it’s safe to barge into their room without damaging her eyes further and frying her brain cells.  
  
 She and Baz had the “talk”, when Simon couldn’t convince her that he and Baz were just fooling around (even though Simon didn’t want it to be just that, because Simon would give the world to Baz if he let him) and Simon didn’t know how it ended but Baz apparently had her “approval”. However that happened, Simon didn’t know.  
  
 “Crowley, B-az, coming, I’m comi—“Simon violently shudders, his orgasm ripped out from him. Baz is still fucking him, chasing his orgasm and Simon feels like being invaded, sensitivity starting to spike up, but Baz feels good, Baz is still iron hard. It’s still after a few seconds that Simon could feel Baz orgasming, his spunk filling the insides of Simon’s ass, dripping from his hole and into the mahogany floor of their room.  
  
 Baz uses lube on him, but never condom. He did try at first though, but Simon was the one to shake his head. He wanted to feel full of Baz’s cum, even though it hurts his stomach sometimes, but it’s worth it to Simon. Hell, he would walk around Watford with Baz’s cum in his ass when Baz is feeling daring and would fuck him in the school’s bathroom after casting a silencing spell. (Which happens especially after Baz’s team emerges victorious in football matches, when Baz is still in his adrenaline-high state and very eager for celebratory sex.)  
  
 Simon catches his breath, blindly looking for Baz’s mouth and slipping his tongue in when Baz faces him. Baz groans, his cock softening but still thrusting to get off the high and Simon slightly keens at the pressure. Simon is pretty sure that if Baz stays inside him for another minute, Simon would be ready to go again, and they could probably have four rounds before sleeping. (And morning sex. Morning breath is disgusting but nothing about Baz is ever disgusting for Simon.)  
  
 But Baz slips out and Simon growls, mouth still stuck against Baz until Baz breaks the connection off and places his forehead against Simon’s. Simon stares at Baz’s eyes for a few seconds, steel gray eyes still blown but starting to return from arousal.  
  
 “I’m hungry.” Baz says softly, nipping at the fat plump of Simon’s bottom lip and Simon blinks and understands.  
  
 Simon frowns, “You should’ve eaten before coming here. I told you I don’t mind the taste of blood.”  
  
 “But I do. I’ll be back later.” Baz lightly pecks him on the corner of his mouth, “Go to sleep.”  
  
 Simon sighs and slides his thighs from Baz’s waist, but Baz takes a hold of his hips and carries him to his bed. Simon reluctantly unclasps his hands from Baz’s back and he could see Baz briefly gracing him with a small smile.  
  
 Baz zips his fly and kisses Simon on the forehead, tenderly, and Simon thinks he might cry.  
  
 “Sweet dreams, Simon.” and when Simon closes his eyes, he immediately falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

 “Mmm...nnh” Simon moves his hips, Baz’s tongue circling the rim of Simon’s hole before spearing it, and Simon half screams, white sheets bunching in his grip.  
  
 It’s six in the morning and Simon wakes up with Baz sucking at his nipple and three fingers in his ass, scooping the cum that Baz left last night when he went out afterwards to feed at the Catacombs.  
  
 “B-az, it’s filthy, don’t-” Simon whines but it dies in his lips when Baz grabs at his half hard cock, pumping it leisurely. Simon moans and rolls on his back because he doesn’t want Baz’s hand on his cock, he wants Baz’s cock in his ass.  
  
 “Minx,” Baz tells him, “Always ready for your husband’s cock. I should plug your hole with a vibrator and mess with the control while you’re in class.”  
  
_Wife-kink_ , Simon despairs, and he goes from half-hard to full-hard.  
  
 Baz slides easily inside with a groan before rolling his hips deliciously and Simon helplessly whimpers. Baz slides out completely before plunging in and Simon is dying again, tears escaping his eyes from how good it is.  
  
 It only lasts a minute before they’re both coming, moaning and Simon feels the distinct fullness that comes from being filled with Baz’s cum again. Baz slumps and encases Simon with his warmth, nuzzling at his golden locks and says, “You think we could go round two before going to class?”  
  
 Simon’s cock jerks, “Shower, because Crowley knows both of us need proper hygiene.”  
  
 So to say, they were in the shower room for a full hour, with one of Simon’s leg lifted up, and Baz’s mouth working a dark spot on his collarbone, and Simon is undone in a way that Baz could only do to him.

 

* * *

 “Argh!” Simon screams in frustration, dramatically dropping his head on the pristine wood table.  
  
 Penny intelligently ignores him, flipping a page before scribbling to her papers for the charms class, which is due in three days.  
  
 “Penny, I need help.” Simon says.  
  
 “Is it about Baz? Because if it is about Baz then no, I don’t want to hear it.” Penny replies and lights up when she found the topic that she was looking for.  
  
 “Er—“  
  
 “No, Simon. I don’t want to hear about you and Baz shagging away until weekends, only to start again on weekdays.” She states firmly, shaking her head in exasperated disbelief.  
  
 “Penny!” Simon hisses at her, “What if somebody hears you?”  
  
 “If somebody heard it, then they’d accept it and move on, Simon. Both of you couldn’t be more obvious than two soldiers wearing rainbow-colored uniforms while trotting along the front lines.”  
  
 Simon, for the life of him, blushes, “What-- We-we’re not-- not that obvious. I. I think.”  
  
 Penny shoots him a bland look, “I’m sure you’re not, Simon.”  
  
 “Stop being sarcastic.”  
  
 Penny rubs her temples with her forefinger and thumb, “Alright, help me out here, would you? I need a book, that Hamlet one with the original manuscript. It’s in Section 4-C, I’m sure you could get it for me.”  
  
 “We’re talking when I return back, Penny.” Simon stands up, walking briskly towards the bookshelf. Before he managed to get away from Penny’s earshot, he managed to hear her mumble something suspiciously like, _“If you could still talk.”_  
  
 Simon manages to pick out the Hamlet one, covered with old heavy leather when a hand shoots out and holds his wrist.  
  
 “What the—“ A pair of lips is insistently pressed against him, and Simon knows the shape, knows who it belongs to without opening his eyes. A tongue licks into the seam of his lips and Simon opens up without hesitance, moaning low when another hand cups his bottom and squeezes at it.  
  
 “Baz, wait, _Baz—_ “  
  
 “Yes, dear?” Baz smirks at him, closing the distance between their bodies by pushing Simon towards him by the ass. Simon could feel Baz hard in his trousers, and Simon is too, so Simon looks up at him with question and panic, “Are you serious?!” Simon mouths at him aggressively.  
  
 “We could dry-hump or you could blow me.” Baz answers like it’s the most natural thing for him. And it probably is. He then adds, “Or I could blow you.”  
  
 “Dry-hump. Blow job is too messy.” Simon responds and maybe this is natural for him too. Normalcy for Baz is blown out of proportion, and as someone who is currently in some sort of relationship-not-relationship with Baz, Simon’s normalcy is already out of the Milky Way and heading towards Andromeda.  
  
 Simon pushes his body and both of Baz’s hands now are on his ass, fingertips edging closer to where his balls are covered by his boxers. They’re both kissing again, and it’s loud even in Simon’s ears—the shlick of their sparring tongues, bitten-off groans, and Simon is surprised that the whole library doesn’t hear them making out and semi-fucking.  
  
 Simon gets his answer when they’re both done and Baz is magicking away the cum that managed to seep out from their trousers.  
  
 “Silencing and invisibility spell.” He says and Simon’s mouth twitches upwards, because Jesus Christ does he love this man.  
  
 Which, speaking of, “Penny, I’m here now, and we need to talk.”  
  
 Penny looks at Simon with an eyebrow raised, amused, “I must say that I am impressed.”  
  
 “Penny, _please_.” And Penny must have caught the urgency and anxiety from that single word because Penny nods, setting up privacy wards in case somebody tries to stick their nose to where it doesn’t belong.  
  
 “I think I’m in love.” Simon blurts out and Penny stares at him, uncomprehending.  
  
 “And?”  
  
 “And what? That’s it. I-I think I might love Baz.”  
  
 Penny blinks, opens her mouth and closes it again. “So? Tell him then.”  
  
 “Tell him?” Simon forces a laugh, grabbing at the mess of his hair, “Penny, if I tell him, Baz would probably freak out and run away!”  
  
 Penny taps her chin thoughtfully, and after a moment, she asks, “Simon, you know that you’re The Mage’s Heir, Chosen One, supposedly defeater of the Insidious Humdrum. You know that Baz is a Pitch, sworn enemy, and The Mage gave you a crash course about how you would kill Baz in a deadly battle. You believed this, followed Baz around for seven years, gathering for evidence against him. Why did you decide that fooling with him was okay?”  
  
 “I—I don’t know. It just happened, okay? I don’t know how it started, but it was small things at first, brushes of hands—Innocent things! And then, and then it escalated somehow, and before I knew we were snogging, and shagging, and I thought that it’s nothing serious, that it’s going to be okay. This way I could get information from him, and then I just found myself in love with him, like when I wake up in the morning and see him beside me and think, _I could wake up to this everyday_.”  
  
 Simon is panting at the end of his tirade, eyes wild and bright, and Penny closes her eyes.  
  
 “Talk to him, Simon. If you tell him you love him and he tells you that he doesn’t feel the same, then he’s not worthy of having you.”  
  
 “Penny, I can’t—“  
  
 “Think about it, Simon. Carefully think before you act.”

 

* * *

 

 It takes Agatha running away in a flurry of blonde and tears.  
  
 “Why did you- agh, you do that? Nn—you know that Aga-ah-tha, loves, loves you- _there!_ ”  
  
 Simon is bent over the edge of his bed, kneeling and taking every ram of Baz’s cock. It hurts and every thrust hits his sweet spot and even though he’s currently angry, he would die if Baz would stop.  
  
 Baz is peppering kisses on his back and Simon can’t see him, can’t twist his head around because _it’s too much_. He could combust like this, like he’s more flammable than Baz could ever be.  
  
 “I’m currently fucking you-” Baz tells him, his voice hoarse and deep, deep like how his prick is right now, but Simon could sense the amusement and bitterness in his tone as clear as day, mixed in an angry spiral, “—so you should be screaming my name, not another person’s, do you understand me?”  
  
 Simon’s cock jerks at the command, and it’s only sometimes, very rarely, that Baz is this commanding and possessive of Simon and really, Simon should feel bad for Agatha, his ex-girlfriend with a massive crush towards Baz, after Baz crushed her heart by telling her that he’s not serious when he’s flirting with her.  
  
 “Li-like what you did to Agatha, are we like that t-too?” Simon asks, starting to unravel and Baz— Baz stops.  
  
 “Baz, _what-_ ” Simon blinks incredulously, trying to fuck himself on Baz’s prick but Baz’s grip on his hip is immovable, and Simon _really really_ needs to come right now. He needs Baz to move.  
  
 “What do you think, Simon?” Simon sharply inhales at the coldness of the tone, and it’s unfair of Baz to ask him to _think_ because he _fucking can’t_ , not with Baz inside him, encased by the tight sheath of his ass.  
  
 “I-I don’t know, so I should ask you.” Simon settles instead and bites his lip until it draws blood, “Are you fucking me for the sake of fucking?”  
  
 “How about you?”, Baz counters the question, and for seven years of rooming with Baz, one and a half year consisting of mindless sex and debauchery, Simon would like to think that he knows Baz even a little bit, and the situation right now is only frustrating Simon because Baz is blank and Simon can’t fucking read him.  
  
 Simon takes risks without fully knowing what the endgame would be. Baz is a risk that Simon took that, for the first time, Simon is afraid of knowing what the outcome would be. Because there’s The Mage and The Pitches and this whole shitload of Magickal Politics, but most of all because Simon loves Baz, and his question could cleave their relationship to irreparability, and Simon might die when Baz would stop fucking him but he can’t Live when Baz exits his life thoroughly.  
  
 But Simon is brave. “I’m not fucking for the sake of fucking.”  
  
 A soft gasp, and Simon’s hips is almost crushed under the intensity of Baz’s grip.  
  
 “Why?”  
  
 Simon clenches his teeth, swiveling his head to fully look at Baz, look at how he would be disgusted or revolted or in denial or maybe, maybe hopeful that this thing between them would end into something good, that they could be more than this, and Simon feels like being fried in an oven, tears prickling their way out from his eyes but he’s not letting them.  
  
 “You know why, Baz. I know you do. You know that this isn’t just sex for me.” He admits, and Baz purses his lips into a thin line, and Simon silently waits for the finishing blow. He hopes that Baz would have mercy, because Simon remembers Agatha’s face when she was turned down by this incredible fucker who still had his cock inside Simon’s ass, and Simon still thinks that Agatha had gotten away lightly.  
  
 “I didn’t know, Simon, you never show.”  
  
 Simon scoffs, “What, me screaming your name and letting you have your way with me not enough evidence for you? I know you don’t think much of me, _Pitch_ , but I don’t actually slut my way around Watford—“  
  
 Baz silences him with a kiss, his tongue dipped in hell’s ice as it dances and nudges and pushes against his, and soon Simon forgets what he was ranting about, but there’s a little part of his brain that screams at him to make this good, because this could be the last.  
  
 Baz pulls his tongue out, a trail of thick saliva still connecting them, and Baz licks his lips, “I think of you so much, you have no fucking idea.”  
  
 He gives a forceful shove and Simon moans long and loud, and Baz-- Baz is still speaking, “Every day, every night, every second, what I want to do to you, what I have to do to have you only for me. But. I figured that you would have hated it. I thought that you- that it would make me possessive of you and you would jump away and I couldn’t have you anymore. _Fuck._ I hated Wellbelove and, and Bunce sometimes, _shit, so good—_ “  
  
 Simon is crying now, tears rolling down from his cheek in a constant cascade and he couldn’t actually believe it but Baz wanted him. It wasn’t just Simon. But that wouldn’t mean that Baz is in love with him-  
  
 “—love you so much, nhh, Simon. Darling. _Mine_.”  
  
 Simon whites out; spilling his spunk on the floor like a hurricane and his brain is completely mush. _Mine._ Baz said that Simon was his. It was the only thing that Simon ever wanted to hear from Baz’s mouth aside from his declaration of love. Which Baz did say, earlier.  
  
 He shudders unstoppably, and he didn’t even notice that Baz came after him.  
  
 Simon holds onto the sheet with white knuckles, gasping for breath, and he could feel Baz’s long, graceful fingers carding his golden locks back, his cold and hot tongue sweeping another tear that escapes Simon’s eyes.  
  
 “I thought it was just me.” Simon admits after moments of heavy panting and Baz cooing at him to stop him from crying.  
  
 “So did I.” Baz says and Simon tries to hold back a deranged smile.  
  
 “We’re idiots. But you, my darling, are mostly a fucking asshole about it.”  
  
 Baz snorts and hisses as he slips out, bodily dragging Simon up so he can lay in his bed before wrapping strong arms around Simon and burying his face on Simon’s chest while Simon hums an unidentifiable tune.  
  
 “You know, if I’m your wife, shouldn’t you have _husbandly_ obligations to clean me up? Because waking up sticky from your cum is disgusting.”  
  
 “You like it.” Baz contemplates, very pleased with himself, the wanker.  
  
 Simon grunts, “You should be glad I do.”  
  
 “I leave it so I don’t have to prepare you in the morning. And I’m going to fill you up again anyway, so.”  
  
 Simon flushes at his words and pouts, even though Baz can’t actually see it, before running his fingers through Baz’s hair the way Baz did for him earlier, peacefully spending the afterglow away.  
  
 “Do you want me to tell Wellbelove that I dumped her because I’m head over heels with her ex-boyfriend?” Baz asks out of nowhere and Simon can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.  
  
 “You could, but this ex-boyfriend makes me terribly jealous, I wonder who he is?”  
  
 Baz squeezes him tightly, “Gee, I don’t know. You could ask Mr. Simon Snow-Pitch about it.”  
  
 Simon laughs, unbridled and free and light, and shuts his eyes. He could have this, he thinks, he didn’t know he could have this.  
  
 “Baz?” Thump.  
  
 “Yes?”  
  
 “I really really love you.”  
  
 Simon looks down and Baz is looking up at him with slightly wide eyes that turns into half crescents, a smile that Simon had never seen before blooming splendidly, and Simon is fucking blessed.  
  
 Screw the Humdrum, The Mage, Agatha, all of the Watford.  
  
 He could have this, _he will have this,_ and that’s what all that matters.

 

* * *

**“THE TALK”**

 Penny looks at Baz, truly looks at him, before asking him the same question that she asked Simon, “So apparently you and Simon are fooling around.”  
  
 Baz doesn’t answer, but Penny could see dark clouds forming behind the curtain of his lashes at the mention of ‘fooling’, and Baz smiles in his usual atrocious smug way that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Apparently. What are you going to do about it, Bunce?”  
  
 Penny hates that smile.  
  
 “You love him.” Penny tries, and Baz startles. Startles bad and long enough for Penny to see the interior of the iron mask that Baz forged to protect himself. Sees the truth, the wanting, and love. Acres and acres of deep love and Penny is surprised too, and she closes her eyes.  
  
 Baz doesn’t respond.  
  
 It could go terribly bad, Penny thinks, because Baz loves but is afraid, and Simon starts to love too, and would know that Baz would be afraid. They will be fools, dancing around each other, trying to avoid stepping on the strings when in truth, an invisible string is already choking them.  
  
 Simon would be hurt, Penny thinks, because Simon is not good at dealing with feelings, and so is Baz, and their coping sucks as fuck, and Penny asks herself if they’ll be okay. Because Penny knows that it could go terribly bad, but maybe, maybe they have a future. Even if it’s a little dim and hazy and maybe not shining so very brightly, but it must be there, and that should count for something.  
  
 Penny turns away from Baz and could see him startle again for the second time during the movement. Penny should be proud of herself because that’s twice in a single day.  
  
 Penny walks away.  
  
 She tells Simon that Baz has her approval, and fondly gazes at him because the dork’s already in love and he doesn’t even realize it. Simon is like a little brother that Penny never had, or her future child, and Penny might be a bit biased because Penny loves Simon like her own flesh and blood.  
  
 So: If Baz hurts Simon, Penny muses, opening her eyes, she will simply have to crush Baz.

 

**Author's Note:**

> See what I mean? 
> 
> Don't worry about Penny, she's just tired and sick of Simon being hurt, so her threats are lethal af.


End file.
